The nice thing about having three freelance projects going at one time plus 2 more on the waiting list is that when I am at work at the dayjob, I have something to keep my mind out of where I am and how much I hate it there. Instead, I am completely preoccupied with emailing the client, sending files back and forth for approval and calling Megan on her cell. My pal Megan was kind enough to hook me up with a very easygoing client and she’s acting as the account manager. It’s fabulous. She does all the talking to the client, negotiates all the fees, draws up the proposals, keeps track of billing and all the dirty work I hate about freelance. I just do the design work, which is time consuming in itself. I want to take Megan and put her on all my clients like that. And who knows, that might be a possibility after she returns from her Hawaii vacation.
Working with friends is like playing make-believe. It’s like dressing up like adults and pretending to talk like adults and making important phone calls from the airport before the next meeting like adults, but really we’re just kids having fun. We throw words out there like, “Teleconference” and “Production Costs” and “Press Ready Artwork,” just because it sounds cooler and more grown-up than “phone call” and “finished stuff.” There are parts of the professional world that I can’t handle any better than a 5 year old, and I usually avoid those situations. Which is why it is great to have a friend like Megan march right in and take them over for me.
A few months back we decided that by the end of the summer we should start our own design “firm” (another important sounding word) and we’d both quit our jobs and have fun. Then Megan was offered a really sweet full-time gig at another ad agency. I urged her to take the job. It was such a great offer, and she was about to lose her current job. I was a little sad because it sort of put a hold on our plans of working together. I didn’t tell Megan that though, because she was so nervous about accepting the mondo job offer and I didn’t want to add to her stress.
As fate would have it, she took the job and she hates it. The people in her office are just plain mean. Her stories about these co-workers evoke bad memories of my experiences in sixth grade when I just did not fit in anywhere, no matter how hard I tried. Oh, memories of the catty “in” girls with their big hair and their pierced ears, guarding their precious little cliques with their forked tongues and harsh words, feeding off the insecurities of the wanna-be’s whom they deemed unworthy of their friendship. So goes Megan’s work days from 9am to 9pm every day. At least the dysfunctional family here at my dayjob likes me (well, with the exception of CEO’s Wife). So when she returns from Hawaii, Megan says she will have a whole new agenda–an agenda that does not include sacrificing her Self to fit in with the meanies.
And maybe we’ll work together after all. I’m not putting pressure on, certainly not getting my hopes up, but I’ve put the bug in her ear and she hasn’t plucked it out yet. (It’s a friendly sort of bug, like a catepillar or a little ladybug–no worries!)
Tonight I draw pirates that glow in the dark for some other friends that I used to work with 2 years ago. It is a fun project but gawdamn these drop-dead deadlines are very, very diffucult for a tired weary sick girl like me. Bring on the weekend already!
